The Local Militia-Man.

How! marrows, aw'se tip you a sang,
If ye'll nobbit gibe your attenction.
Aw''ve sarrow'd maw king seven years,
An aw'm now luikin out for the pension.
But when my adventures aw tell,
An' should ye fin reason to doubt it,
An' think it mair thn aw deserve,
Aw' se just rest contented without it

Chorus:
Rum ti idity, &c.

Ye mun ken, when aw first went to drill,
Maw gun aw flang owre maw heed,
Fell'd the chep that stuid close in a-hint me,
He lay kickin and sprawlin for deed.
But when wor manuvres we lairn'd,
Wor Cornell o' huz grew se fond, man,
He match'd us gyen for smashing targets,
Close ower nyont Helsop's Pond, Man.

We mairch'd off at nine i' the mornin,
And at four we were not quite duin,
While a bite never enter'd our thropples:
Wi' hunger were fit to lie doon.
But wor fellows they tuik sic an aim,
Ye wad thought that they shot for a wager;
And yen chep, the deil pay his hide,
He varra nigh shot theDrum-Major.

Suin efter, 'twas on the Vairge Day,
'Bout the time that wor Cornel was Mayor,
Fra Gyetshead we fir'd ower their heeds,
Byed the fokes in Newcassel to stare.
To Newburn we then bore away,
And embark'd just beside a great Dung-hole,
Wi' biscut and plenty o'yell,
And wor Adjutant Clerk o' the Bung-hole.

Wor Triangular Lad lop'd first ashore,
When the folks ran like cows or mad bulls;
Iv a jiffy they cam back to fight us,
Wi' pokers and three-footed stuils.
When they fand he was not Bonnyparty,
Nor nyen ov his sowgers fra France,
The music then started to play,
And we for to caper and dance.

Sie wark as we had efter that,
Wad tyek a lang day for to tell,
How we fronted, an' flankt it, an' maircht
Through the sowgers at Thropley Fell,
At the Play-house we've shin'd mony a time,
Wor scaups a' besmatter-d wi' flour;
But that neet it wad myed the deil gurn,
To see us a' powthert wi' stour.

Yen day we were from'd in a ring,
And wor Cornel said this, 'at ne'er spoke ill,
Ye your sarvis, my lads, mun transfer
Tiv a core caw'd the Durham Foot Local.
So tiv Sunderland if ye'd but gan,
And see us a' stand in a line,
Ye'd swear that a few finer fellows
Ne'er cam fra the Wear and the Tyne.
 
 
 

Wm. Midford-In: The Newcastle Song Book or Tyne-Side Songster., W&T Fordyce
Newcastle Upon Tyne.